Cursed_Hal

“When one’s dead, one’s dead… This squirrel will become earth all in his time. And still later on, there’ll grow new trees from him, with new squirrels skipping about in them. Do you think that’s so very sad?”
― Tove Jansson, Moominland Midwinter

“Don’t worry we shall have wonderful dreams, and when we wake up it’ll be spring.”
― Tove Jansson

“There was no light at the end of the tunnel--or if there was, it was an oncoming train.”
― Terry Pratchett, Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch

“Look at this!" he shouted "look at it! what has that one-woman force of chaos done to these spells?"
Sophie and Michael whirled round and looked at Howl. His hair was wet, but, apart from that, neither of them could see that it looked any different.
"If you mean me-" Sophie began.
"I do mean you! Look!" Howl shrieked. He sat down with a thump on the three-legged stool and jabbed at his wet head with his fingers. "Look. Survey. Inspect. My hair is ruined! I look like a pan of bacon and eggs!"
Michael and Sophie bent nervously over Howl's head. it seemed the usual flaxen color right down to the roots. The only difference might have been a slight, very slight, trace of red. Sophie found that agreeable. It reminded her a little of the color her own hair should have been.
"I think it's nice," she said.
"Nice!" screamed Howl. "You would! You did it on purpose. You couldn't rest until you made me miserable too. Look at it! It's ginger! I shall have to hide until it's grown out!" He spread his arms out passionately. "Dispair!" he yelled. "Anguish! Horror!”
― Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle